Of aching limbs and blissful slumber ....

That's how i would describe my day today. First, we had a breathless game of football, quite customary these days, followed by a brisk but incredibly refreshing shower. The legs, however, seem to have a mind of their own, refusing to budge even at the sternest commands issued from my central nervous system. And even when they do, it is a kind of grudging submission. The net result - I can be seen dragging my feet along the corridor of my wing, with a shuffling gait of a cripple rather than a college-going student. Yet, in a vague masochistic way, one tends to enjoy this onset of muscle fatigue as it makes you feel so undeniably ALIVE ... they say you need to experience sadness to appreciate true joy. In a similar vein, you need to experience utter exhaustion in order to truly feel the enjoyment of sound sleep. And sure enough it comes...

In the meantime, there was a game going on - a game of cricket that was strictly not for the weak-hearted. Yeah, you guessed it right, I am talking about the Ashes, and the game in question, the astonishing fourth test held at Trent Bridge. It had all the ingredients of the vintage Ashes - two evenly-matched teams bent on getting an upper hand on the other, and consequently some frayed nerves, and rising tempers. A rampaging England squad that refused to lie down and allow history to repeat itself. Instead they gave back some of what they got from the Aussies - aggression, athleticism, tenacity. All of a sudden, the world champions were left scratching their heads in disbelief at the "new-found" English determination - something they have not faced in a while. As the saying goes - "fortune favours the brave" and the result is there for all to see. At a time when Indian sport is discovering new lows everyday, these inconsequential results form the only cause for cheer for an Indian sports enthusiast. I say inconsequential, because there is little reason for us, Indians, to take pleasure in the fall of arguably one of the greatest teams to have graced the stage of Test Cricket. However, that is the sad state we find ourselves in.

Without pondering over the futility of it all, I would like to answer the urgent requests of these aching limbs of mine, and call it a day. Sleep, that blissful and sometimes enigmatic entity is looming large on my horizon. Good Night.

the thrills of hostel life ...

Yesterday was quite an eventful day for me. Firstly, I woke up late yet again for class and gave it up as a lost effort as soon as my eyes fell on the clock. It was a class that I shouldn't have missed as I had woken up before time on this occasion, but such is the attractive nature of the classes we have, I went back to sleep as soon as I realised this fact. The result: I slept for the remaining hours before lunch and woke up just in time for the lab I had in the afternoon. A lab in which everyone bar the teacher knows what is going on - and somehow having spent the last three years over here, that doesn't come as a surprise. The lab is aptly named too - OOPs - that last letter a fitting addition bringing to the fore the futility of the exercise. I'm sure you too would agree on this point, when I tell you that the subject is named "Object Oriented Programming" and the teacher comes to the class everyday, armed with the humungous vocabulary of ONE word -- and no points for guessing that the word is "objects", of course. Now you didn't think any different did you, coz if you did, you would be woefully underestimating what our teachers are capable of. Under his skilful supervision, what had appeared to be a course that promised to hold our interest, is turned into quite a farcical affair with the students dodging an endless volley of "objects".

The lab is equally farcical in its NON-applicability to any modern methods of thinking and is concluded as soon as the teacher steps out, having completed his pretty innocuous question-answer session. For once, we were not complaining though, as the prospect of a football match in the pouring rain looms large. Quite a lip-smacking proposition I must say, as even the most skilful of players are reduced to mere bystanders in the bewitching nature of the turf. The game didn't disappoint either with plenty of sliding and falling, and seemed to resemble a game of water-polo more than soccer for the most part. But then, who cares, when students of all shapes and sizes can indulge in an hour of carefree banter without the slightest worry in their heads. For a final year that definitely comes at a premium, at a time when preparation for various competitive exams occupy foremost importance.

We emerge from the footer field, dripping wet, but with huge smiles on our faces as each of us relish the prospect of a rejuvenating shower after such a rolling in the mud. The next few minutes are spent in casual chit-chat as we try and "analyse" the game, each participant trying to keep a straight face even in face of the apparent absurdity of the proposition. The exercise was doomed to failure even before it had started and soon the hilarity of the situation overcomes one and all and we burst out laughing.

The next few hours whizz past as we manage to take showers, have dinners and settle comfortably into our chairs or beds as the case may be. The night, like many nights before, appeared headed for the same monotonous routine - hours of "jhandaoing" interspersed with occasional bhaat sessions and mid-night snacks courtesy one Mr. Carlos. However, a spanner materialised from nowhere, and flew into the works, throwing all carefully-made plans into abject disarray. POWERCUT !!!

For the modern students of IIT Kharagpur, a powercut symbolises their worst night-mares coming true. In the absence of this life-force, the techonology that drives the generation comes to a jarring halt. The people who are used to spending 99% of their time in front of the computer screen are rendered, in one horrifying moment, completely "jobless". Or so we thought. The time we spent in its absence yesterday night, however, will form one of the most lasting memories of this place at least for me. Where else can you even think of "moonlight footer", let alone play it. Where else can you lie beneath the open sky and spend hours gazing in speechless awe at its ephemeral beauty. Where else can you spend time laughing and joking with your closest friends with not a care in the world.

I love hostel life. And that's why.

Musings ...

Just felt like writing, so here I am. These days I am really busy with music practices as the Foundation Day production of ETMS (Eastern Technology Music Society for the uninitiated) is just around the corner. In many ways, my being a part of this is like a dream come true, as ever since my first year -- as I took my first tremulous steps down the path of IIT life -- the ETMS was like the pinnacle of musical excellence. I was an aspiring singer at that time, having never had the courage to even hold a guitar in my hands while I was in school. Instead I concentrated solely on singing, even though I wasn't all that good at it. Hence, the auditions of the ETMS presented a window of opportunity for me, as I wanted nothing better than to croon those notes in front of a cheering audience. The feeling, I was sure, would be heady, and as if caught up in the frantic race for recognition, I dreamt on. The much-vaunted plans never saw the light of day, however, as due to certain unforeseen circumstances I couldn't even attend the auditions, let alone get selected. Hence, the ETMS remained what it represented to me at the time - a Mt. Everest that was to be looked up to, but that lay out of reach of the mere mortal that was me.

That was in my first year -- when I was still unsure of my surroundings, unsure of my abilities as a musician and most of all, unsure of my future. I had secured a less-than-noteworthy rank in the JEE and hence had to bear the ignominy of studying in the Department of Mathematics that epitomised the fears of many an innocent onlooker. I was not sure whether I would ever be able to perform on the same stage as some of the best musicians of Kharagpur. I wasn't even sure I would be able to cope up with the pressures of studying in one of the toughest departments of the Institute, at least in terms of grades. Or so I thought.

Three years down the line, and things have taken an altogether different hue. I have managed to not only touch the pinnacle that is the ETMS but am actually involved in a major way. And that too as a guitarist. There were times during this long "graduation" when I felt lost, and was tempted to give it all up. However, I realise now that the fact that I did not get into the society earlier than this has actually been a blessing in disguise. It gave me more time to come to terms with my instrument and made me a better musician. Of course the constant exchange of ideas with perhaps the most gifted musician of my batch, one Mr. Kartik Varadpande, was a tremendous boost for me at every stage and for that I am extremely grateful.

They say, "Failures are the stepping-stone to success" -- and not without reason too....